Bittersweet Vodka
by Robin Haviliard
Summary: Ok...so umm...fail summary...Israel and Russia have had many years of working together, and Russia finally decides to tell Israel how he feels. More inside, please R&R! Yaoi, no likie no lookie. Fluff.


Yamiatei98: Alright, I present to you...FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME, HERE, ON FANFICTION…

Lambogirl666: Just get on with it!

Yamiatei98: MY VERY FIRST EVER HETALIA ONE-SHOT! *clapping and cheering* Thank you, thank you. Now, I own nothing, except my Israel character. Now, in some of my other stories (Wars for Survival) Israel is portrayed as a girl. Not in this story. Nope. Nada. Nyet.

Lambogirl666: Nyet?

Yamiatei98: No in Russian. Moving on, so this is a one-shot IsraelxRussia. Yaoi. No likey, no lookie. In this fic, Israel is a boy, just to clarify again. So please don't yell at me or anything like that! And just a future notice, Israel gets paired up with a lot of other characters (i.e. America, Russia, Turkey, Greece…) It's kinda weird I know, but I mean think about England, he's passed around like a good bottle of wine. But that's beside the point, so let's just begin, shall we?

xXxXx

Jerusalem

8:30 P.M.

Israel picked up his phone, quickly dialing a familiar number.

"Hello?" A small, shy voice answered.

The black haired nation broke into a wide grin. "Shalom* Latvia, is R'ev* Russia home?"

"He is, should I put him on the phone?"

"Ken*, please do," Israel replied, drumming his fingers on the little oak table.

"Brienyet," a deep voice answered. (Pardon my Russian…correct me if I'm wrong…)

"Ahh…" The black haired Jew sighed. "R'ev Russia…you're home…" His thick accent rolling his r's.

"Da, I am home," Russia replied.

Taking a deep breath, Israel asked Russia about his economy, how things in Russia were going, trying to start up a dead conversation. The entire time the silver haired nation either answered "Da," or "Nyet."

"I trust you are taking good care of my people, you promised on your li—"

The older nation stopped Israel mid-sentence. "Gabriel," he said, using Israel's human name. "Come over to Mother Russia. Now."

"V-vhat? Russia vhat do you mean?" But the line had gone dead, the monotone sound running through the receiver of the phone.

"Sometimes I vish you vould be more precise…" Israel thought out loud, her slight German accent weaving its way into his voice. He never knew how he had gotten the accent, it just seemed to work its way into his speech automatically. (I'm basing this off of how my Israeli teacher talks, rolling his r's and making w's sound like v's)

Taking out his cell phone, he dialed a cab and went to the Tel-Aviv airport. Catching the soonest flight to Russia. The flight was not very crowded, but very boring. The movie that played was some American chick flick, so the young Nation decided to sleep the flight off instead. The plane touched down, jostling Israel out of his dreamless sleep.

He walked off the plane, putting his jacket on as the cold atmosphere of the airport greeted him coolly. Checking his phone, Israel read the new message that had been sent a couple minutes before his plane had landed.

From: _Russia_

To: _Israel _

Estonia will meet you at the airport and bring you to my house.

Sighing, the black haired country pocketed his cell, walking over to Passport Control to get clearance into Russia. He waited in line for about an hour, finally reaching the head of the line.

"Gabriel Ishmael?" The Russian man asked, his distinct accent making it hard to understand him.

"Da, ya Gabriel Ishmael,*" switching over to Russian to make it easier on the worker.

"Podpishite zdesʹ , pozhaluĭsta,*" the man said gruffly, handing Gabriel a pen and paper.

Quickly signing the form, he picked up his shoulder bag and passport before leaving the long line.

Walking down the stairs, he searched the crowd for a familiar Estonian face. Locating the tall man, he walked over, greeting his old friend. "Shalom R'ev Estonia."

The blonde nation shook the Israeli's hand, smiling in return. "Hello Israel, I trust your flight was good?"

"Ken, but I am still confused at why Russia wanted me to come in the first place," Israel replied, following the Estonian out of the airport and into the snowy Russian atmosphere.

"Nyet, I do not know why either, Mr. Russia wouldn't explain anything to me."

The two trudged through the snow wordlessly, heading towards the small, little, sleek black Skoda, parked along the side of the airport main road. Estonia climbed into the driver's seat, while Israel opened the door to the passenger's seat, sitting down and buckling his seat belt. The drive was also fairly silent, besides the few times the blonde Estonian would yell out a curse to other drivers.

After about a half an hour, they arrived outside a large and decorated almost chapel-looking mansion, with tall decorated spires reaching up into the clouds.

"They're beautiful…" Israel breathed, admiring the colorful points.

"They are, they're Mr. Russia's pride and joy," Estonia explained.

"Really?"

"No," the blue eyed nation nation smiled. "But he does put a lot of effort into them."

Nodding, Israel kicked the snow and ice off of his boots, leaving them inside the door. He took off his overcoat, hanging it on the coat rack. A fire was blazing in the hearth and sitting in front of the fireplace was Lithuania and Poland. Poland was latched onto Lithuania's arm, who, in turn, was resting his head on the Polish boy's shoulder.

Israel smiled, the two were an adorable couple, he had to admit, and seeing the two together always made him happy. He silently walked past them, entering the rather large kitchen.

"H-hello Mr. Israel…" a small voice came from in front of him.

Looking down, he saw one of his favorite little country. "Shalom Latvia, I hope you are doing well," Israel said to Latvia, ruffling his curly blonde hair.

"Y-yes Mr. Israel, I am well."

Standing up straight, he looked around the kitchen for Russia. "Do you know where Russia is?" He asked, looking behind him in case the older nation had snuck up on him.

"Da, he is in his "study" room," the small country replied.

"What do you mean by "study" room?" The black haired man asked.

"He studies different brands of vodka for hours on end," Latvia smiled up at Israel.

The black haired country nodded, he knew where that room was. He walked down the long hallway, passed several different rooms until he came to a deep oak paneled door. Israel knocked lightly on the door, waiting for a response from inside.

"Da?" A voice asked from the inside.

"R'ev Russia. It's Israel." He responded curtly, not wanting to waste his words on the larger nation.

"Da, come in."

The black haired nation slowly opened the door, softly shutting it behind him. Israel surveyed the room. On the left side was shelf after shelf, after shelf, of Russian Vodka. On the right wall was the exact same, but this side had variation of French, English, and American vodka. At the back of the room was an oak desk with a small lamp, several shot glasses, and an opened vodka bottle on top of it.

On either side of the door were glass cases of shot glasses, each polished and cleaned to perfection.

And hanging behind the desk on the wall was a whole rack of water pipes. A total of seven were suspended by a rack. Some were shining, others were old and rusted. At the very center, was Russia's prized water pipe. Old and graying, it hung proudly on the wall, a few inches higher than the others. The plaque above it read 'vozlyublennyĭ'. *

Recognizing the name in Russian, which meant 'beloved.'

_How original. Russia named his water pipe Beloved. _

But at the center of the room sat Russia himself. Tan overcoat around his muscular form, scarf looped around his neck, shot glass in one hand, vodka bottle in the other.

Israel took a deep breath. "Hello R'ev Russia."

"Hello Israel." The room was mostly empty, everything was either against the wall of a few feet from one. The couch which Russia sat on was several feet away from the front of his desk, sleek black leather with a matching black coffee table in front of it. But other than that, there was a whole empty space, where Israel stood at the moment. It was around twelve feet in every direction from where he stood.

A slow, yet enchanting melody came from somewhere in the room. The small nation couldn't pinpoint it though, it seemed to come from everywhere. Before he could blink, Russia stood before him, towering a good few inches above him. Israel was considered tall, but Russia was a giant. While Israel stood a strong 6 feet, the silver haired country was at LEAST 6'5''.

(Um..sorry if the heights are inaccurate, but most of the Israelis I know are 6 feet so…yeah…)

While most people thought Russia was scary and intimidating, Israel thought the exact opposite. Sweden was one of Israel's best friends, and he didn't have that scary look in his eyes that everyone else seemed to see whenever they looked at Sweden. It was pretty much the same with Russia. There was no purple aurora around him. There was some sort of…feel…about him that made him intimidating, but not scary…

Israel loved some Russian pieces. They were just so…amazing…They mesmerized him every time. The one that was currently playing was his favorite. It was a piece from 'The Nutcracker', Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy.

Russia took Israel's right hand in his own, then placed his hand on the shorter nation's waist. The black haired Israeli's face heated up, flushing a deep rose color. He placed his left hand on Russia's shoulder, blushing even darker as the silver haired nation began a slow, steady dance around the small room.

Israel made sure to keep his eyes on the floor, making sure not to trip over Russia's feet. He was blushing so badly, that the blush had spread from his cheeks, to his ears, and to the back of his neck. It was embarrassing for him to be deteriorated to this, but…this is Russia we're talking about! Nothing with or about Russia is that simple! One couldn't just…dance…with…RUSSIA, of all people…without…feeling…like…like THIS. I mean…Russia was complicated. Along with his family. His sister Belarus, always wanted him, and Russia couldn't stand her, his other sister, Ukraine, was kind but…I think you know…

The Baltics were nice, but very timid and afraid of Russia.

But that's beside the point.

"Are you alright little Israel?" Russia asked, smiling down at the smaller nation.

Israel's head snapped up. "Since when was I 'Little Israel'?" He asked angrirly. His face paled when he remembered who he was yelling at.

"Well, you are a small country, da? So you are my little Israel." The violet eyed country said, pulling Israel close so that he was pressed up against his chest.

The blue eyed nation blushed darkly, lowering his face to stare at the very interesting floor. Both of Russia's hands were on Israel's waist, and Israel's were resting on Russia's chest.

Russia had helped Israel throughout the years. When the Holocaust[1] threatened almost the entire population of Jews in Israel, Russia had sheltered them. When Israel was in debt, Russia helped him. For almost every incident that happened to befall Israel, Russia had been there to help.

Unknowingly, Israel had laid his head against the silver haired nation, burying his head in to the soft cloth of Russia's overcoat. What made it special to him was that…that it smelled like Russia. Like vodka, snow, and…what was that other smell? It was definitely a type of vodka…it smelled familiar…But he couldn't place the name…

"You like, da?" Russia's voice made Israel jump a bit. "Saros vodka."

_So that's what the smell is…_

"But…but that's—"

"An Israeli vodka, da. But it's my favorite, so I like drinking it. Reminds you of home, da?"

"Da…" Israel rested his forehead against Russia again, still swaying to the beat of the music, which seemed to go on forever in an endless cycle. It was enchanting, the slow tinkle of the synthesizer, mesmerizing him, entrancing him.

When Russia wrapped his arms around Israel's waist, something in his stomach fluttered. What was it the Americans called it? Butterflies in your stomach? Yes, that was it. Butterflies were flitting around listlessly in the pit of his stomach.

_I…I…I think I love…Russia…_ He thought to himself, a blush spreading to his ear tips.

The violet eyed country rested his head on top of Israel's, breathing in the scent of the Dead Sea, cucumbers, and freshly baked falafel balls. Russia loved Israel. His Little Israel. His. Israel belonged to him, and no one else. The larger nation tightened his grip around the blue eyed nation, pulling him even closer against his chest.

"I love Russia…" Israel said out loud. This of course, was an accident. He had meant to THINK what he had just said, but…

"Oh? You love Mother Russia?"

Oops.

Guess it slipped out…

"D-did I say that out l-loud?" Israel look up into Russia's deep violet eyes.

Russia smiled. It wasn't the creepy aurora-inducing-smile-of-imminent-death. It was sincere, love filled and hopeful.

"Da." He took his hand up to Israel's chin, tilting his head up, before gently pressing their lips together.

When the smaller nation didn't resist, Russia ran his tongue over his Little Israel's soft pink lips. After a few seconds of begging and pleading (with his tongue, might I add) Israel finally allowed the dominant nation access. Plunging right in, Russia began his work, searching Israel's warm cavern, mapping it out, thoroughly exploring every inch.

Israel hesitantly wrapped his arms around Russia's neck, pulling himself closer. Still smiling, the silver haired country found Israel's tongue and slowly started to massage them together. Israel slowly started to kiss back, playing around with the taller nation's tongue.

Picking up his new found lover, Russia set Israel down on the black couch, parting their lips for a second. He moved his fingers down to the button-down shirt that Israel wore, starting to undo the buttons so that he could reach the soft, smooth skin hidden underneath. Starting to remove the smaller nation's shirt, he reached forward, his fingertips dancing over the surface of his lover's skin. Israel took his shirt off for Russia; since the other was busy ghosting kisses over his skin.

Taking a bunch of the violet eyed nation's scarf into his hands, he brought Russia's lips to his. Blue eyes met violet, as Russia unwrapped his scarf from his neck. Israel raised an eyebrow. There was barely a time when he had seen Russia without his scarf. Smiling again, the larger nation took both of Israel's hands into his, putting them over his head and tying them with his scarf so that Israel's hands were rendered useless for the time being.

The large nation was eager to get to work on his lover, and he reached up to plant a soft kiss on Israel's lips, when he heard a soft snore come from his lover. Russia was surprised to see Israel sound asleep from the time change from his country to Russia. Pulling him close, Israel nuzzled into his lover's neck, still snoring softly, curling up into the form of Russia's body.

"YA lyublyu tebya Malenʹkiĭ Izrailʹ"* Russia whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

xXxXxXx

Yamiatei98: Ok, so this is my first Hetalia fluff thing…so…please be nice…the idea for this came to me when I was thinking about…well…vodka, strangely enough, so I decided to make a little fluff ball out of it…

Lambogirl666: Fail.

Yamiatei98: You ALWAYS say that…So please Review! The button is your friend…please be nice…

Translations: (In order of appearance)

Are you Gabriel Ishmael?

Yes, I am Gabriel Ishmael.

Please sign here.

Beloved.

I love you Little Israel.

Da = Yes.


End file.
